Poem After I Pick Uncontrollably

I can't stop picking my fucked up skin It's a sick twisted drive that comes from within I'm addicted to picking and squeezing my face until i fucking bleed, such horrid disgrace my nose red with nail marks my cheeks holy too my t-zone a bump free zone for a second or two i hide in the bathroom i lock up my room i sit on the counter where lighting is good i zone out got the toner out got the alcohol pads the newest facewash fads this habit is too bad my face red, am i mad? my knuckles get swollen from the constant pressure fear pressure cause tear pressures nails cause deep impressions this is my sad expression i wont learn my lesson cold water won't shrink these swollen pores i can smell the oil like a tiny spring it pours tomorrow's primer and foundation minerals and bronzer got so much to cover got so much to hide maybe i'll play up my eyes with dark eyeliner lines but more pimples to pop more shit to reveal more sick fucked up pleasure inner wounds need to heal scabs to scratch a smooth face is all i want but i tolerate pain each pore is a game a challenge and a shame almost there yes it came harder get the tissue it's on the mirror i've got issues I can't stop picking my fucked up face Tonight no control tomorrow's the same i just need to lather up, to rinse and i'll stop ooh motha fucka there's one to pop blackheads and white heads i'm feeling quite high acne and pus bubbles WHY GOD WHY? I have perfect skin underneath this excess oil it makes me itch and my plans are foiled to make a commitment to make a resolution to stop this shit and find a solution but It's a war I've been fighting for ten years now each battle Im losing the damage is done another round wont matter my fingers are pitchforks my face is so soft this compulsion destroys me i pray to stop i need microdermabrasion but this addiction seems endless cause I'm fucking crazy